


Aches & Pains: Moments in Time

by Jadzibelle



Series: Aches and Pains [3]
Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Gen, High School, Implied Current Child Abuse, Implied Neglect, Implied Past Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Prequel, Prom, References to Disney's The Fox and the Hound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:05:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3497783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzibelle/pseuds/Jadzibelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of scenes taking place in the Aches & Pains 'verse, pre-S1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Vacation, 1984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Break, 1984:
> 
> Nathan's mother invites Duke to stay over with them for Christmas Break. Nathan's father isn't thrilled.

Snow was falling outside, heavy and thick.  It had been piling up in the window frames, but the wind had picked up a few minutes ago, and scoured the frames bare.  The windows were rattling, enough that Nathan’s mom stood up and turned the volume on the television up a few notches, so that they could still hear the movie.  She caught his eye when she turned to go back to her chair, and he smiled, a small little thing, but she smiled back, detoured enough to kiss the top of his head before she sat back down and picked up her knitting.  Nathan burrowed deeper into the couch, pleased with the affection; beside him, Duke shifted in response to his movement, pushing further into Nathan’s space.

Nathan didn’t mind; it was cold, even under the big, colorful quilt his mom had taken out of the linen closet for them, and it was warmer the closer they were.  Besides, Duke was always in his space, now, he’d gotten used to it.  Kind of liked it, actually.  He still didn’t _understand_ it- Duke had gone from distant but not unfriendly, to downright mean, to aggressively protective and _determined_ to be friends without a word of explanation- but so far, there was no sign of another shift, there was no trace of trickery in his closeness.  And maybe it was stupid, maybe Nathan _should_ be braced for another swing, but he didn’t want to be.  He felt _safe_ , when Duke was in his space, when he had one skinny arm slung over Nathan’s shoulders or was pressed against his side or was just _hovering_ , near enough to reach out and touch whenever Nathan turned around- it was hard _not_ to feel safe, when Duke was so quick to pick fights, lately, if someone was bothering Nathan.

Nathan reached over and tangled his fingers in Duke’s sweater, and the older boy stilled, some faint tension leaving his narrow shoulders.  Nathan didn’t understand _that_ , either, didn’t understand why Duke got nervous sometimes when Nathan’s mom came close, but he didn’t say anything.  He didn’t think Duke would like it if he asked, and it didn’t take much to calm him down, anyway.  It wasn’t even that Duke didn’t _like_ his mom- Duke had told him two nights ago, when they were tucked under the covers with a flashlight and a handful of comic books, that Nathan’s mom was one of his favorite people, that she was even nicer than Bill and Jeff’s mom.  So it was strange, but it was just how Duke was, so Nathan would leave it alone.

On the television, Tod the fox and Copper the dog playfully chased each other around.  They’d watched the same movie every afternoon of break so far- Nathan’s mom had suggested it the first afternoon, and Duke admitted that he hadn’t seen it.  Personally, Nathan preferred Robin Hood, but Duke had latched on to The Fox and the Hound with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, and Nathan didn’t care enough to argue.  There was comfort to be found in the routine; wake up, have breakfast, play outside for a few hours, come in, have lunch- grilled cheese sandwiches and apple slices and potato chips and hot chocolate with marshmallows- watch a movie while his mother worked on her knitting, play quietly or read or draw in his room for an hour or two, then dinner and another hour or two of playing before bed.  Nathan found the predictability of it soothing, too much so to fret over _what_ movie they were watching.

It was the best school break Nathan could remember, and he was very, very glad that his mother had invited Duke to stay with them while school was out.  He hadn’t expected it, and neither had Duke, from the startled, wide-eyed look he’d given her when she’d asked the Thursday before school let out, but he’d nodded quick as anything and brought an extra bag with him to school the next day, a haphazard collection of clothes shoved carelessly inside.  He’d still looked cautious, when they’d gotten off the schoolbus at Nathan’s stop, like he expected to be told to go home after all, but Nathan’s mom had just greeted him with the same calm, warm tone she always used, taken their backpacks and Duke’s bag, and sent them right back outside to play until dinner.

She hadn’t seemed surprised when, before bed that evening, Duke had nervously admitted he’d forgotten his toothbrush; she’d just taken an extra one out of the medicine cabinet for him.  Duke had been _very_ surprised to find that his things had miraculously sorted and folded themselves inside his bag.  Nathan hadn’t cared, had been too busy disassembling the neat little bed that his mother had made out of blankets and a camping mattress on his floor in favor of piling the extra blankets on his own mattress, because that was where Duke was going to end up anyway, so they might as well skip the part where they tried to sort it out in the middle of the night.

They were almost at the end of the movie when the kitchen door opened and closed.  The sound caused an instant change in the atmosphere of the room- Duke, still tucked against Nathan’s side, went completely stiff, shoulders tight and expression blank.  Nathan’s heart raced, pounded just a little too loud in his ears, and his mother set aside her knitting, the motion deliberate and slow.

Nathan’s dad stomped across the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to look over the living room; his expression went tight and disapproving when he spotted Nathan and Duke on the couch, though it softened to something gentler when he looked at Nathan’s mother.

His mom stood up, crossed over to his dad and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he in turn kissed her forehead, but he didn’t _quite_ lose the look of disapproval.

“You’re home early,” he heard his mother say, her voice pitched quiet, almost too quiet to hear- particularly as she ushered his father back into the kitchen, and around out of sight.

“Yah, well, with the storm comin’ in, it was leave early or get stuck, and not much point bein’ the fella in charge if I can’t occasionally sneak out early,” his father replied, and Nathan almost relaxed, because there was a warm, amused note in his voice- still plainly audible, though Nathan thought it probably wasn’t supposed to be.

“Well, dinner won’t be ready until six,” his mother said, still quiet.  “The boys are almost done with their movie, though, if you’d like to come sit down?”

“Don’t really want to interrupt,” his father said, and the amusement was gone.  “Know how I feel about this foolishness,” he added, and Nathan cringed, just a little.  Duke obviously felt it, and he clenched his teeth and shifted a little, straightening up so that he wasn’t leaning against Nathan anymore, pulling Nathan in instead to lean against him.

“Be nice, Garland,” his mother said, just a hint of reprimand in her tone.  “It’s not foolishness.”

“It’s exactly that, Adelaide, and don’t you try to tell me different!  You know it is, you know what that boy’s set to become-”

“No, I don’t,” Nathan’s mother replied, her tone sharp.  “And neither do you.  And it doesn’t matter one whit what you or I think, or even what Lucy thought- and you _know_ she’d have agreed with me, don’t pretend you don’t.  Nathan’s _happy_ , he’s spent all week happy, he’s laughing and going outside and they even had a snowball fight with the other children on the street yesterday, and you know it wasn’t Nathan who organized it, you know he would have come straight inside if Duke wasn’t with him.  If he’s having bad dreams, he hasn’t said anything to me about it, and he certainly _looks_ like he’s getting more sleep than usual- why do you think that is, Garland?”

“Addie, sweetheart, come on now,” his father said, quiet and disappointed.  “You know I only want what’s best for him, you _know_ that, but this’s only going to end bad, it’s only going to set him up for trouble down the road!  I don’t want him getting hurt.”

“I know you don’t,” his mother said, something warm and real in her voice, “I know.  I know you’re trying to protect him.  But right now, you telling him that his only real friend isn’t worth having isn’t going to do any good for either of them.  They’re good for each other, Gar, and a little bit of hospitality isn’t so terrible a thing to offer when it makes Nathan happy.  And you know- it’s been barely twenty degrees this week, and only getting colder, and there’s no school lunches when there’s no school.  He’s _nine years old_.  Let the poor thing have a real break.”

“You know you can’t keep him, Addie, he’s not a stray you can just bring in,” his father said, but there was a note of resignation in his tone, now.  “Fine.  Just until school starts up again, though, I’m serious ‘bout that, and I still think it’s a bad idea.”

“We _should_.  I don’t care what his father was, that little boy is _harmless_.”

“Harmless?  Now, come on, you know that’s not true even without that other thing, that boy gets into more fights-”

“And thank goodness for that, because the number of bruises _my son_ comes home with now-”

“Because he’s hitting the other boys, now!  Not sure how much of it is he’s protecting _our_ boy so much as just not beatin’ on him his own self!  And you know it!”

“Keep your voice down, Garland, _please_.  And yes, I _know_ , I know _very well_ , but whatever made that _stop_ , it stuck, and the number of ice packs I’ve had to fix up for him because he _was_ keeping someone else from hitting Nathan- they’re _children_ , you can’t ask them to be more than that.  It’s not sophisticated, it’s not elegant, but how many adults do you know who’d work that hard to make up for their mistakes?”

“You’re a kind soul, Addie, you want to see the best in everyone, you allus have,” his father said, dropping his voice, and there was something genuine in the words, something that _almost_ undid the tight knot of unease and upset that had formed in Nathan’s stomach at hearing them argue- _almost_.  He still felt queasy, shaky, because they were fighting about _him_ \- well, him and Duke, anyway- and he _hated_ when they fought, hated that it was his fault.

Duke was just as tense, breathing too fast, eyes unfocused as he _listened_ , straining to catch the words- his hands were balled into fists, and there was a tremble running through him that Nathan could feel.  He looked like he did sometimes, when he wanted to _run_ , and that scared Nathan nearly as much as the arguing did.

He caught one of Duke’s hands and pressed, wriggled his fingers until they were threaded through, until Duke had no choice but to loosen the fist he’d made and twine his fingers around Nathan’s, and Nathan held on tight.  Duke didn’t say anything, and neither did Nathan- but Duke stopped shaking, stopped looking like there was a chance he was going to bolt.  Instead, he looked _stubborn_ , chin jutting forward, brows drawn low.

Nathan would’ve smiled, if he wasn’t still feeling sick.

He’d lost track of the quiet conversation in the kitchen, in his distraction- and a sudden burst of sound from the movie- and he deliberately tried to only hear the television, tried to shut out whatever was being said behind them.  It was another minute before his mom came back, looking a little more wan than she had when she left; she paused at the couch to put a hand on his shoulder, leaned in and kissed the top of his head again- then leaned over to do the same to Duke, who went very, very still.  Nathan squeezed his hand under the blanket, and Duke slowly relaxed as Nathan’s mom went back to her chair and her knitting.  A moment later, Nathan’s dad came back in as well; he paused next to the couch, too, but he did nothing more than reach out and ruffle Nathan’s hair before he headed to his recliner in the corner.

He ignored Duke, and Duke ignored him, and that was probably for the best- Nathan was too relieved by the small gesture of approval to think too hard about it, anyway.  

“So, what’s this, then?” he asked after a moment, frowning at the television.

“The Fox and the Hound,” Nathan answered.  “That’s Tod, he’s the fox.  And that’s Copper.  And the angry man is Slade.”  He shifted a little, because things were looking grim for Copper and Slade, and even if he knew how it ended- and even if he didn’t much like Slade- well, it was still a little scary.  Sometimes things didn’t go like they were supposed to, even if they had every time before.

On the screen, Copper hit the ground with an awful whine, and Tod- well on his way to escape- hesitated, and turned back.

“What’s that little fellow think he’s doing?” his dad asked, and Nathan shrugged, leaning into Duke’s side.

“He’s fighting the bear.  The bear was gonna hurt Copper.”

“Weren’t they fighting, not more’n a minute ago?”

“Yeah, but that’s ‘cause Chief got hurt, and Copper’s angry.”

“Who’s Chief?”

“The other dog, he’s back at the farm, ‘cause he got hurt.”

“And the fox hurt him?”

“No, he got hit by a train.  They were chasing Tod, and Copper tried to let Tod go, but Chief wouldn’t give up.”

“Why’d the dog want to let him go?  That’s a hunting dog, they don’t exactly just give up on a good trail.”

“B’cause,” Nathan said, as patiently as he could, “they’re friends.  They promised.”

Nathan, for all his explaining, still had his eyes glued to the screen- he missed the decidedly pointed look his father cast at his mother, and the equally pointed shrug she gave in return.  He didn’t miss the way Duke leaned, just a little, or the way Duke held just a little tighter to his hand- Nathan squeezed back, reassuring.

“Ain’t all the promises in the world going to stop a hunter from hunting,” his father said, the words sure and final.  “Can’t help it, it’s just what they do.  It’s what they’re born and bred for, it’s in their blood.”

“Not Copper,” Nathan argued, pointing at the screen with his free hand.  “See?  He didn’t let Slade shoot Tod.”

“That’s not how it works, son, I’m sorry to say.”  He did sound sorry, which was a little confusing, but Nathan was pretty sure his dad just didn’t know how to watch this kind of movie.  Most of what his dad watched seemed to be cowboy movies, anyway, and they usually didn’t end until somebody got shot.

Nathan liked his movies better.

“Nathan, honey, why don’t you and Duke go play in your room for a little while, I’ll call you when it’s time for dinner,” his mother said, as the movie closed.  There was something a little strained in her voice, and Nathan hopped up quickly, letting go of Duke’s hand as he stood.

“Okay,” he agreed, not wanting to add to that strain, and he moved to fold up the quilt so it wasn’t a mess.  Duke stood just a little slower, and after a moment of watching Nathan fight with the blanket, took one end and helped.

They retreated to Nathan’s bedroom, and he closed the door and turned on the radio- if his parents were going to argue again, he didn’t want to hear it.

 

That night, after they had brushed their teeth and changed into their pyjamas and Nathan’s mom had come in to check on them and make sure they turned the light off, they curled up under the covers, Duke wriggling around until he was pressed up against Nathan’s back.  He’d been quiet most of the afternoon, much quieter than usual; Nathan hadn’t pushed him to talk, even if it left him feeling a little unsure.  He wasn’t used to having to hold up both ends of the conversation with Duke- usually that was Duke’s job, and Nathan was the one who could sit quietly.  He was still quiet, for long enough that Nathan was almost asleep before he spoke.

“I don’t like it,” Duke said, the words quiet and thoughtful.

“Don’t like what?” Nathan asked, yawning.

“The end.  They promised they were gonna be friends, but at the end, Copper stayed with Slade even though he was mean, and Tod went off with Vixie.”  Duke sounded _deeply_ unsatisfied, and Nathan wondered if he’d spent the whole afternoon worrying about it, if that’s what had made him so quiet.

“Copper had to stay, he was Slade’s dog,” Nathan pointed out.

“He could’ve run away,” Duke countered.

“Or Tod could’ve come back home,” Nathan said, because he didn’t think it was completely fair to expect Copper to leave everything behind.  “Was Slade really going to keep trying to get him?”

“...Hunters hunt,” Duke said, after a long pause, sounding uncomfortable.  “Maybe it still wasn’t safe.”

“Or maybe,” Nathan said, because it was obviously actually bothering Duke, “we just didn’t see the real end.  Maybe Tod and Vixie went down the hill after that, and lived with Widow Tweed, and Tod went and visited Copper and Copper went and visited Tod and old Slade realized he’d been wrong the whole time anyway.  Tod did save their lives.  He fought a whole _bear_ for them.”

“You think Vixie and Copper would’ve been friends, too?” Duke asked, sounding uncertain.

“Of course they would,” Nathan said firmly.  “And they would all have adventures together.”

“...Okay,” Duke said, after a moment.  “Yeah, okay.  I like that better.”

“Then that’s how it ends.”

“Maybe tomorrow we can write it that way.”

“You can write it.  I’ll draw the pictures.”

“Okay.”  Duke sounded satisfied, and sleepy, and he curled up a little tighter.  Nathan waited a few minutes, but Duke didn’t say anything else, so he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

He dreamed of dogs, and foxes, and things much worse than cartoon bears.  When he started to stir himself awake, though, quiet whispers calmed him down.  In the morning, all he remembered of the nightmare was that it ended.

 


	2. Late March, 1983 - First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late March, 1983 - First Meeting
> 
> The first time Duke encountered Lucy, it was late March, Duke was in second grade, and something had set fire to the elementary school gymnasium at just shy of eleven thirty in the morning.
> 
> CW: Implied child abuse/neglect, implied harm to children.

The first time Duke encountered Lucy, it was late March, Duke was in second grade, and _something_ had set fire to the elementary school gymnasium at just shy of eleven thirty in the morning.  The fire department had shown up, of course, and there were firemen and firetrucks everywhere.  The police had also shown up, and there were black-and-white cars and crisp blue uniforms in among the bright red and yellow of the fire department.  The teachers were trying to keep the students in order, lined up by class out on the big grassy field next to the playground- it wasn’t exactly _simple_ , given that news traveled fast and parents were arriving in droves to try and find their kids.  Duke had filed out of his classroom with all the rest of his classmates, waited exactly patiently enough to be marked _present_ on the teacher’s list once they’d formed their line outside, and then slipped away in the confusion of crying, shouting, and Carla Rose’s mother having hysterics at Mrs. Waite for not letting her leave yet.

He wanted to get a better look at the fire trucks, and it seemed like a perfect opportunity.  Bill tried to catch his sleeve, but Duke brushed him off, ignoring the whispered, “You’re going to get in trouble!”- no one was looking, after all, and it wasn’t like Duke’s dad was going to show up anytime soon, and Mrs. Waite was busy with the parents who _were_ showing up.  He’d have plenty of time to go to the parking lot, see the firetrucks, and get back before anyone noticed he was gone.

He’d made it to the front corner of the building before a hand came down on his shoulder, and he _flinched_ , skipping sideways and ducking away from the unexpected touch with well-trained fear, turning wide, startled eyes on-

-on a pretty lady who was definitely _not_ his father, who was looking at him with one sweeping brow raised behind brown bangs, her hand still outstretched.  Duke blushed, shuffling his feet and trying not to look like he’d just been scared, setting his chin and scowling.  Her expression changed only in that the other brow rose to match the first, before she gave a short chuckle.

“Easy, kid,” she said, dropping her hand to her side.  “Didn’t mean to startle you.  But you shouldn’t be up here, you should be with your teacher, people will be worried.”

“Mrs. Waite already marked me there,” Duke replied, shrugging.

“That doesn’t mean you can wander off,” the lady said, frowning at him, and Duke shifted uncomfortably.  He didn’t know her, she wasn’t anybody he was supposed to listen to, but if he argued, she might tell Mrs. Waite, or worse, his dad, and then he’d be in trouble.  “Where were you trying to go, anyway?”

“Wasn’t going anywhere,” Duke said, a little surprised and a little suspicious.  Adults didn’t usually ask him things unless they were looking for more reasons to yell at him.  She gave him a _look_ , one that said very clearly that she didn’t believe him and wasn’t going to accept anything less than a real answer, and he sighed.  He was already caught, anyway, it wasn’t like telling her could make it _worse_.  “I just wanted to see the fire trucks.”

“Why don’t you wait with your teacher, and ask to see the trucks when your mom gets here?” she asked, which was _not_ the immediate scolding he’d expected, and was also a terrible idea.

“My mom doesn’t live here,” he said, shoulders going tight and expression falling into a darker scowl, because he didn’t like talking about his mom.

“Your dad, then,” she said, tilting her head and watching him intently.  Duke glared, because he liked talking about his dad even less than he liked talking about his mom, and it wasn’t any of her business, anyway.

“He’s busy.  He prolly won’t be here until everything’s gone.”  Assuming he showed up at all- he didn’t always, when the school called.

“You still need to go back and wait with your teacher,” she said, but there was a note of something in her voice, now, something he didn’t recognize.  “Come on, let’s go.”  She reached out again, but carefully, so he could see it, and put her hand on his shoulder.  Duke watched her warily, but she didn’t do more than give him a gentle nudge to encourage him to turn around.

Duke sighed, but started back in the direction of the field.  She walked with him, keeping her hand on his shoulder- he assumed it was to keep him from running, but he knew better than to do that.  He was already in trouble, he didn’t exactly want to make it worse.

“What’s your name, kid?” she asked, as they walked, and Duke considered lying- but Mrs. Waite already knew who he was, so it wouldn’t exactly do him any good.

“Duke,” he said, reluctantly.

“You have a last name, Duke?” she asked, looking down at him with a faint smile, which he did not trust in the slightest.

“Crocker,” he said, and her expression changed, her brows drawing together and the smile disappearing.  He’d seen _that_ before, that uneasy recognition- now he was _really_ in trouble, people who looked like that tended to get mean real quick.

“Which one’s your class?” she asked, looking at the messy clumps of students and teachers and parents, lips pursed, and he pointed to Mrs. Waite, who was still arguing with Carla Rose’s mother, while Carla Rose clutched her mom’s hand and looked embarrassed.  There were other parents around, too, and people were yelling, and the woman heaved a sigh.  “I can see why you didn’t want to stick around,” she commented, and Duke blinked, looking up at her with wide eyes, unprepared for something that sounded like understanding.  “C’mon, let’s see if we can’t get things settled down.”  She didn’t let go of his shoulder- her grip tightened, in fact, but not enough to hurt, and he didn’t really know what to make of that.

She marched straight into the loudest part of the argument, shoulders back and chin up and eyes bright, and Duke trailed along in her wake, because he didn’t really have a choice.

“That’s _enough_ ,” she said, and her voice carried, and everyone- at least, everyone around _his_ class- stopped talking, looking surprised.  “Look, I get that you’re all a little stressed right now, you’re worried about your kids and you all have things you need to get back to, but this _isn’t helping_.  So everybody just- just settle down, and let’s get this sorted out.”  She paused, looked around with a glare that just _dared_ anyone to tell her otherwise, and no one did; she nodded and turned to Mrs. Waite, taking in her clipboard before she nodded to herself.  “Mrs. Waite, right?  Is everyone in your class accounted for?”  Duke noticed that she was looking over the other kids, that something in her expression changed, and her shoulders relaxed just a little, when she did- he couldn’t tell who she was looking at, but she must know _somebody_ in his class.  He didn’t think she was one of the parents, though, and none of the other kids moved closer.

“Yes,” Mrs. Waite said, looking drawn and anxious and _relieved_.  “All of my students are here.”

“Uh huh,” the woman said, tugging Duke a little closer, and Mrs. Waite blushed, but the woman continued before she could say anything.  “Right.  So, if your students are accounted for, can the parents start checking them out and taking them home?”

“Not until we’re cleared,” Mrs. Waite replied, shaking her head.  “The principal needs to collect the lists, and confirm with the fire department that we don’t have any missing students, I can’t let anyone leave until that’s done.”

“But you’ve already checked my daughter off, you _know_ she’s here, I want to take her _home_!” Carla Rose’s mother said, shrill, and Mrs. Waite looked anxious.

“I’m sorry, Mary, but I’m not supposed to let anyone leave!  There are _rules_ -”

“Where is the principal?” the woman asked, interrupting Mrs. Waite.  “Point me in that direction, I’ll see if I can find out what’s taking so long.”

“I-” Mrs. Waite started, craning her neck, “I’m not sure- I don’t see him.”

The woman sighed again, obviously running out of patience, and Duke reached up, tugged on her sleeve.  She looked down at him like she was a little surprised he was still standing there- which Duke thought was a little unfair, since she hadn’t let him go yet- and frowned, just slightly.

“Yes?” she asked, and Duke shifted uncomfortably, but tilted his chin back and tried to sound sure of himself.

“I saw Mr. Mills, before.  He was over that way.”  Duke gestured vaguely back in the direction of the school, where the fire was _definitely_ not just in the gymnasium anymore.  The woman looked even more surprised, at that, before she gave him another faint smile and turned her attention back to Mrs. Waite.

“I’m going to borrow one of your students, Mrs. Waite, and go find Mr. Mills.  We’ll see if we can’t hurry this all along.”  She smiled, and it was a different smile, sharp and sure, and Mrs. Waite dithered for a moment before she nodded.  “Duke, do you mind helping me out?” the woman asked, turning her attention back to him, and it was a surprise, to be _asked_.  “Can you help me find your principal, so we can help everyone get home?”

“Yeah.  I can do that.”  He’d thought she was just going to tell him to, anyway, and he wouldn’t have said anything if he minded, and this way he didn’t have to stay where all the parents were.  A few of his classmates who were close enough to hear- including Carla Rose- looked suitably impressed by him having an important job to do, as well, and Duke didn’t exactly puff up with pride, but it was a near thing.

“Alright, then,” the woman said, adjusting so that she was holding his hand instead of keeping a grip on his shoulder.  “Lead on, kiddo.”

Duke did, heading back in the direction of the parking lot- he’d seen Mr. Mills going that way, so it seemed like the best place to start.  The woman waited until they were a little way away from Mrs. Waite before she squeezed his hand, and gave him a look that was almost playful.

“You’re sure you’re taking me to find your principal, and not just to go look at the fire trucks, right?” she asked, and usually, a question like that would have been a warning, a threat or a trap, but Duke was pretty sure she was actually just joking, that she didn’t really think he was doing something bad.

“I saw Mr. Mills go that way,” Duke replied cautiously, because pretty sure or not, he still wasn’t taking chances.  “I don’t see him with the other classes, so he’s prob’ly still that way.”

“Okay.  I’m counting on you,” she said, and it was confusing and unsettling and also kinda nice.  He’d thought, when she’d heard his name and she’d gotten that look, that she’d be like the nurse at the hospital or the school secretary or Mr. Fisher down at the hardware store.  But she didn’t _seem_ to be angry at him, didn’t seem to think he was a good-for-nothing, had _asked_ for his help and was _counting on him_ , and Duke wanted- badly- to prove that he _could_ be a help.  So he ignored the distraction of the firemen and their trucks, focusing on his task.

He spotted the too-familiar figure of Mr. Mills, his back to them, in deep conversation with someone in a police uniform, and he cringed a little, but tugged the woman in that direction.

“That’s Mr. Mills, he said, pointing, and she looked up, an expression of recognition- different, _pleasant_ \- crossing her face when she saw the person Mr. Mills was talking to.

“Thank you, Duke, you did good, let’s go see if we can get him to start checking those lists like he’s supposed to,” she said, walking briskly toward the two men.  The policeman, expression dour and _worried_ , looked up, spotted her, and motioned her over- then caught sight of Duke, and frowned sharply.

“Lucy, this is Roger Mills, Roger, this is Lucy Ripley, she’s the one I told you ‘bout,” the policeman said, as they approached.  “Lucy?” he added, a note of sharp inquiry in his tone, and the woman- Lucy, apparently- shrugged.

“Garland,” she said, addressing the policeman.  “I was just over with Mrs. Waite’s class, some of the parents are getting very anxious, they want to take their kids home.  Mrs. Waite says she can’t let anyone leave until Mr. Mills checks the class lists, is there any way we can get that to happen _before_ there’s a brawl on the field?”

“Did-” Garland started, and Lucy interrupted before he could get any further.

“I saw him, he’s fine, he’s waiting with the rest of his class,” Lucy said, giving the officer a soft smile, and the man _relaxed_ , tension leaving his posture and expression shifting indescribably.  Duke guessed he must have a kid, one of the kids in his class- _oh_.  Nathan’s dad was a policeman, this must be Nathan’s dad.  Duke shifted a little closer to Lucy, trying to pretend he wasn’t there at all.  His father didn’t like Nathan’s dad _at all_ , Duke wasn’t supposed to go anywhere _near_ him.  Duke would be in _so much trouble_ if his father found out.  “But I’m serious about the impending brawl, they’re getting a little heated back there.”

“Principal Mills, why don’t you go on and see to that, we need those lists anyhow, we need to know who else might’ve been in there,” he said, and Duke noticed for the first time that Mr. Mills was shaking, pale and unsteady, that his eyes were red and the skin around them puffy.

“Who _else_?” Lucy asked, tone suddenly sharp, and the policeman’s expression went hard again.

“Two people, at least, so far,” Garland said, and Lucy’s hand tightened around Duke’s as she turned to look at the building, at the fire billowing persistently in the windows, despite the firemen and their hoses clearly trying to get things under control.  Duke’s stomach twisted as he realized what the policeman was talking about- somebody had been _in_ the gym.  The fire, which had seemed like little more than an exciting novelty, suddenly looked much, much more frightening.

“ _Shit_ ,” she said.  “Kids?”

“One of ‘em.”

“ _Shit_ ,” she repeated, and Duke shifted a little bit closer to her legs, scared now.  He knew _his_ classmates were okay, but Jeff was in Mr. Peters’s third grade class, and he hadn’t _seen_ him, and Ian was in Ms. Fletcher’s class, and Duke hadn’t seen _him_ , either.  And that was putting aside the fact that he generally speaking didn’t really want bad things to happen to _most_ of the kids at school.

“Uh, Ms. Ripley, why- why do you have a student with you?” Mr. Mills asked, seeming to notice Duke for the first time, blinking quickly and making an effort to look more like he usually did.  “Is he...”

“Like I said, I was over with Mrs. Waite’s class, I needed someone to point you out, he volunteered,” Lucy said, skipping neatly over the fact that she’d caught him trying to sneak _away_ from his class, and Duke blinked and came to the conclusion that she was the best adult _ever_.  “I didn’t think it would be too much of a problem, since she’d already checked him in and she knew I was borrowing him.”

“...Oh.  No, no, of course not,” Mr. Mills said, sounding surprised, and looking at Duke with something a little like suspicion, but he was obviously too distracted to care enough to question it.  “I... I need to go check in the classes.  Detective-”

“We’re on it.  We’ll figure out how this happened, Roger, and we’ll make damn sure it doesn’t happen again.”  Mr. Mills nodded once at the gruff, solid words, and turned to go back to where the classes were waiting.  Lucy watched him go, before she turned to Garland, expression taking on a dark edge.

“You think this is our kind of problem?” she asked, and Garland _scowled_.

“Pretty sure, and I’m not saying a damn thing more about it in front of the kid,” he replied, tone sharp.  “You know whose boy that is?”  Duke ducked further back, shoulders curling in- he wasn’t really _surprised_ , not after what his dad had said about Nathan’s dad, after- _after_ , but he hated it when people asked that question.  It never ended well for him.

“I don’t _care_ ,” Lucy replied, just as sharp, “but fine.  Come on, Duke, let’s get you back to your class.”  She sounded _angry_ , now, and Duke didn’t say a word, just kept himself small and quiet, because getting in the middle was _never_ a good idea.

When his mom had still lived with them, she was always scariest when she’d had a fight with his dad, when he’d yelled or- or done other stuff, and she was angry after.  Being quiet didn’t help much when his dad was in a bad mood, but sometimes it’d helped with his mom.

And going back over to the rest of his class suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

Lucy led him back toward the assembled classes, her steps quicker and more forceful than before, and Duke scurried to keep up, trying to ignore the prickle on the back of his neck at turning his back to the angry policeman, trying to ignore the fluttering unease in his stomach at _not knowing_ whether he was in trouble or not, whether things were going to get loud and dangerous and painful or not.

They were halfway back when Lucy slowed down, and gave him a sideways glance, her expression flickering.

“I’m not mad at you, kid.”

“...Okay,” Duke said, not believing her, but not dumb enough to argue.  She gave him another look, raising one eyebrow at him, and it was pretty clear she knew he didn’t believe her, but she just sighed and kept walking.  Duke kept up until they were close enough that he could spot Ms. Fletcher; he missed a step and stumbled craning his neck to try and see if he could spot Ian, and Lucy’s hand on his was all that kept him on his feet.  He blushed when she shot another look at him, and stammered out an apology, and he had no idea how to interpret the way her eyes went narrow and her lips went tight.

“It’s fine, you okay?” she asked, glancing between him and the crowds.  “What’re you looking for?”

“...My friend, that’s Ms. Fletcher, he’s in her class.”  And Ian wasn’t so good at following instructions, sometimes, he got distracted and didn’t listen.  If someone _had_ been in the gym...

“Now’s not really a good time to socialize,” Lucy said, a note of disapproval in her tone, and Duke folded in on himself a little, but that _wasn’t_ what he was doing.

“I know _that_ ,” he said, forcing the words.  “But the policeman said-”

“ _Oh_ ,” she said, and her expression softened.  “Okay.  Okay, which one is your friend?  Can you point him out for me?”

...And that sounded as much like a trap as her earlier question, but they were close enough that the teachers could see them now, so he was pretty sure he was safe, more or less, and Duke was more worried about making sure Ian was okay than about the possible consequences if it _was_ a trick.  He took a careful step closer, surprised when she didn’t make any move to stop him, just moved to keep pace, and he frowned as he looked up the line of students.

“That one,” he said, relieved, and he pointed Ian out where he was standing awkwardly at the end of the line.

“Anybody else you need to check on?” she asked, and she sounded like she meant it.  Which was unsettling, but Duke wasn’t going to argue with being given the opportunity.

“I should find Jeff.  He’s in Mr. Peters’s class.”

“Which one is that?” she asked, and Duke moved a little way up the field, until he could see Mr. Peters, and his students.

“That’s Mr. Peters,” he said, looking anxiously over the students.  “...And there’s Jeff.”  The relief was fairly overwhelming; Jeff wasn’t Ian, wasn’t quite as prone to wandering off and getting into trouble, but he _was_ very willing to ignore instructions when it suited him, and he had as much of a curious streak as Duke did.

“Anyone else?” she asked, giving him a faint smile, like she _approved_ of his concern- it made him anxious, made his stomach twist, because it was _different_ , and he didn’t know how to handle it.  It was unsettling enough that he shook his head, deciding that he didn’t need to find Jack or Aiden- they followed the rules, they wouldn’t have been anywhere they weren’t supposed to be.  “Okay.  Then we really do need to get you back to your teacher.”

“Okay,” he said, turning back toward his own class.

“Hey, kid?  Can you do one more thing for me?” she asked, as they were walking, and Duke shrugged, but nodded cautiously.  “I need you not to tell anybody what the policeman said, all right?”

“...Why?” Duke asked, frowning- he hadn’t exactly planned to say anything, but now that he’d been asked not to, he wanted to know why he shouldn’t.

“It was scary to hear that, wasn’t it?” she asked, and he nodded again, still frowning.  “Now imagine that everybody got scared, and wanted to go find their friends.  Everyone would be moving around, nobody would be able to find anyone, people might panic and go places they shouldn’t.  People could get hurt.”

“...Oh.”  That made sense, actually, Duke could understand that.  “...Okay.  Yeah.”

“Thank you.  That’s a big help.”  She smiled at him again, and brought him back to Mrs. Waite.  The crowd of parents had only gotten bigger, but Mrs. Waite’s clipboard was gone, and Carla Rose’s mother looked slightly less hysterical than she had when they left.  Nobody was shouting, either, which was a nice change.  Lucy let go of his hand and patted him on the shoulder, before she gave him a gentle push in the direction of his peers.  “Stay with your teacher this time, okay?  No wandering off until you’ve been checked out.”

“...Okay,” he agreed, which probably wouldn’t last all _that_ long, unless they were actually going to have the school buses take home anyone who _wasn’t_ checked out by a parent, but that wasn’t something he needed to say.  Instead, he ducked past one of the adults and made his way through his classmates to find Bill.  He hesitated when he caught sight of Nathan, who was by himself and looking anxiously in the direction of the school- Duke considered saying something, but there really wasn’t anything useful he could say.  At least his dad wasn’t one of the firemen, he wasn’t likely to actually be _near_ the fire.

Bill grabbed his arm, and Duke startled, but Bill never noticed that sort of thing- or if he did, he did a convincing job of pretending not to, and Duke appreciated that too much to ask which it was.  He let Bill drag him a few steps further away from Mrs. Waite and the other students, speaking in a low, quiet rush.

“What were you _doing_ , you could have gotten in so much trouble!  Who was that lady, why did you go with her?”

“I just wanted to look, I’m not in trouble, her name is Lucy, and she needed to find Mr. Mills to make him check the class lists so that the teachers can start checking students out and letting people go _home_ and she didn’t know what Mr. Mills looked like so I showed her,” Duke answered, keeping his voice just as low as Bill’s.

“Did you see Jeff?” Bill asked, because he may have been the quieter of the two brothers, may have been the younger of the two, but he was _observant_ , and he’d obviously noticed Duke wandering back and forth before coming back.

“Yeah.  Yeah, he’s with his class, he’s okay,” Duke said, because that didn’t seem like anything he shouldn’t mention, and Bill wasn’t going to say anything to anyone anyway.

There was a moment of disturbance at the front of the line, as Mr. Mills came back through with a tall fireman and handed Mrs. Waite her clipboard back, and the parents all pressed in around her, obviously wanting to get checked out as quickly as possible; Duke sighed and wished he’d been allowed to take his backpack when they left their classroom, because he was going to be very bored once everyone started leaving, and his books were in his backpack.

“You think they’ll let us go to the playground once more people are gone?” Bill asked, sounding a little hopeful, and Duke shrugged.

“Dunno.  You won’t be here too long, though, don’t worry.”

“Mom’s gonna be so mad to have to leave during the lunch rush,” Bill said, fretting, and Duke didn’t laugh, but he wanted to.  Mrs. McShaw being mad was funny; she just puffed up and scolded, like an angry bird, and half the time she lost track of what she was angry about in the first place.  And her temper, such as it was, was usually followed by aggressive provision of food- definitely not scary.

Duke supposed that Bill probably found it less funny than he did, though, so he kept his expression carefully sympathetic.

“It’s not your fault, she’ll know that.  And at least she won’t squawk like Carla Rose’s mom.”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed, looking more cheerful.  “Poor Carla Rose.”

“Yeah,” Duke said, though he didn’t feel any particular amount of pity for her.  They were quiet for a moment, and Duke shifted restlessly- he didn’t want to just stand around, but he had nothing to do and he didn’t think Mrs. Waite would like it much if he tried to start a game of tag or anything like that.

“Hey Duke?” Bill asked, after a few minutes, looking just as bored as Duke, and flopping down onto the field to sit.  “Will you tell me about the dolphins?”

Duke considered for a moment, and sat down as well, folding his legs up and leaning forward, crossing his arms over his knees and leaning his chin on them.  Bill had heard the dolphin story a dozen times before, but he liked it, and it wasn’t like Duke had anything better to do.

“Okay,” he agreed, shrugging.

It would pass the time for a little while, anyway.

 **  
** One by one, Duke’s classmates were claimed by their parents; Mrs. McShaw showed up after a little more than half an hour, taking Bill and Jeff and leaving a paper bag with a sandwich and bag of apple slices in it for Duke- she looked decidedly unhappy as she left, casting a worried glance back in his direction, and he tried not to look too forlorn at Bill’s departure.  Duke saw Ian get collected, as well, and relaxed slightly when he knew for sure Ian couldn’t _possibly_ get himself into trouble wandering off.  Jack, Aiden, and Hannah Driscoll all left together, collected by Jack and Aiden’s mom.  By an hour and a half after the fire had started, the field was nearly empty- there were maybe fifteen students left, most of them in the higher grades. **  
**

From his class, only he and Nathan were left.

It was an uncomfortable situation; Duke was restless and bored and just short of desperate for entertainment, but he was well aware that the school had called his dad, more than once, and that theoretically, he could show up at literally any moment.  The fact that he hadn’t answered the phone and the school had left messages, the fact that it was incredibly _unlikely_ that his dad would show up at all, didn’t change the fact that he _could_.

And Duke was willing to bet that if he _did_ give in to boredom and try to get Nathan’s attention, that would be _exactly_ the point where his dad showed up, and Duke did _not_ want to take that chance.

At two hours, though, Duke’s resolve was wavering, his stomach was growling, and the threat of a whipping was starting to seem less unpleasant than sitting there _silently_ any longer.  He stood up, and looked around carefully- there was no sign of his dad’s truck anywhere that he could see.  It was _probably_ safe, at least for a few minutes.  And the fire had started just before lunch- he probably wasn’t the only one who was hungry.

It was still a bad chance, but Duke crossed the awkward distance he and Nathan had kept between them, and dropped down to sit beside the other boy.

“Go away,” Nathan said, not looking at him.

“I can sit where I want,” Duke said, scowling as he reached into the paper bag that Mrs. McShaw had left him.  He took the sandwich out, and tore the wax paper it was wrapped in down the center, where she’d cut the sandwich in half.  It was ham and cheese on fluffy dark rye, and it had lettuce and pickles and tomatoes, and Duke reconsidered, for just a moment, the wisdom of _sharing_.  But Nathan had turned- just slightly, just enough that Duke had noticed- at the sound of the paper tearing, and Duke sighed and held out one half.

Nathan turned enough to actually look at him, decidedly suspicious, and Duke frowned.

“Mrs. McShaw brought it,” he said, defensive.  “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Nathan narrowed his eyes.

“I know, I saw her give it to you.  Why’re you giving it to me?”

“B’cause,” Duke replied, glaring.  “Lunch should’ve been ages ago.”

“...That doesn’t make sense,” Nathan said, but he reached out and took the offered half, anyway.

“Yes it does,” Duke said, even though it kind of didn’t.  He really _shouldn’t_ be sharing, he wasn’t supposed to be nice to Nathan, he would get in _trouble_ if he got caught.  “Give me the paper bit back.”

“Why?” Nathan asked, frowning sharply.  Duke answered by pulling out the baggie of apple slices and holding them up, and Nathan’s frown didn’t disappear, but he did offer back the wax paper.  Duke piled about half the apple slices into the wax paper and handed it back, and Nathan watched the entire process with suspicion.

Duke decided to ignore that, and ate his half of the sandwich and apple slices quickly.  Nathan ate much more deliberately, not even half done by the time Duke had finished.  He was concentrating _really hard_ on the food, too, like it wasn’t cooperating- though as far as Duke could tell, it was doing exactly what a sandwich _should_ , which was _nothing_.

And he _had_ considered the possibility that it was misbehaving somehow, because sometimes really weird things just _happened_.  More and more, lately, it seemed, which would have been less unsettling if anybody would talk about it, but nobody ever did- at least, not in anything but nervous whispers.  Duke wasn’t sure why, didn’t understand why it was such a secret when _everybody knew_ , but it was.  Strange things, magic things, they _happened_.

He’d seen them happen.

Nathan hadn’t quite finished all of his apple slices when he went suddenly tense, gaze fixed on the edge of the field; Duke followed his line of sight and saw Lucy and Nathan’s dad heading in their direction.  Without a word spoken between them, Duke and Nathan both scrambled up and apart, Duke retreating and Nathan taking a handful of steps forward, much to the obvious surprise of Mrs. Waite, who had been paying more attention to her clipboard than either of them.

Nathan’s dad sped up a little as he got closer, and Nathan hesitated, wavered in place before he gave in and ran the short distance to wrap his arms around his dad’s waist and cling.  His dad put one hand on the back of his head, and patted his shoulder with the other- not quite a hug, but clearly affectionate, nonetheless.  Duke looked away, uncomfortable and angry in a way he couldn’t really explain, and told himself that it was just that he was going to be even more bored without even the _possibility_ of picking on Nathan to pass the time.

Lucy glanced over at him, then went to talk to Mrs. Waite, and Duke drifted a little further away, and flopped down onto the grass with his back to the adults.  Needing something to do with his hands, he plucked one tall stalk of crabgrass and started pulling it apart, unfolding it layer by layer and shredding each leaf.

He didn’t expect Lucy to sit down next to him, folding a little awkwardly the way adults did when they tried to sit down on the ground, and he glanced sideways, uncertain.

“You usually take the bus home, don’t you?” she asked, and Duke nodded.  “Your dad, is he at work until late?”  Duke nodded again, though it was sort of a lie; some days, his dad worked late.  Other days, his dad didn’t work, but was still out of the house at odd times.  She sighed, and reached over, patting his knee.  “All right.  Come on, kid, let’s get you out of here- no bus today, but I can give you a lift to your bus stop.”

“...Mrs. Waite’s going to let you check me out?” Duke asked, startled and confused and deeply suspicious, and Lucy laughed, short and dry.

“Something like that,” she answered, standing up again.  “You want to ask questions, or do you want to get out of here?”

Duke scrambled to his feet, shedding bits of grass as he did- he definitely didn’t want to ask questions.  Mrs. Waite looked uneasy, but she didn’t make any move to interfere when Lucy took Duke’s hand and led him toward the parking lot.  Nathan’s dad shot them an equally uncomfortable look, but he didn’t say anything, either, just leading Nathan off at a slightly different angle.

Lucy led him to a slightly worn looking beige sedan, and opened the back door for him- he climbed in and she tapped the seatbelt pointedly.  He sighed and buckled himself in, and she closed the door and got in the front.

“Are we gonna have school tomorrow?” he asked, looking over at the school building, and thinking about the books in his backpack.

“No.  No school for at least a week,” she said.  “Where’s your bus stop, kid?”

“Corner of Maple and Seabridge,” he answered, disappointed.  Maybe he’d be able to go over to Bill and Jeff’s house for some of the week; being at home the whole time would _suck_.

“...Right.  Maple and Seabridge.  ...Do you know what the main crossroad is?” she asked, and Duke blinked at her.

“Go left out of the parking lot, take Pine until you see the big sign for Old Sal’s, then turn right,” he said, surprised that she didn’t _know_ that.  Haven wasn’t very big- most people knew how to get everywhere.  “There’ll be a bridge over the creek, the bus stop is just before the bridge.”

“Right,” she said again, heading out of the parking lot and turning left.  “Is anyone going to be home, when you get there?”

“...” Now _that_ question was definitely a trap; he was sure of it.  If he said yes, and lied, he’d be in trouble.  If he said no, and told the truth, she might change her mind about taking him to the bus stop, or someone might come and talk to his dad again, and _that_ would be very bad.  He hesitated, and went with the best lie he could think of.  “Mrs. Wells next door is home, I go there first,” he said, which was _technically_ true- Mrs. Wells would be home, and he _did_ pass her house before he got to his.

“She’s supposed to be watching you?” Lucy asked, shooting a glance at him in the mirror, and Duke hadn’t exactly expected a follow-up question, and he shifted anxiously.

“She does sometimes,” he said, which was still technically true.  She’d watched him twice, anyway, when his dad was gone over a couple of nights.

“Uh huh,” Lucy said, sounding like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t say anything else.  She turned right at the sign for Old Sal’s, and pulled over just before the bridge over the creek, and Duke scrambled out of his seatbelt and out of the car quickly, before she could have a chance to change her mind.  She rolled her window down as he slammed the door closed, and gave him a searching, considering look.  “Hey, kid- you know where the police station is, right?”

“...Yes?”

“I work there right now.  You ever need anything, go there, ask Laverne to find me, okay?”

“...Okay,” Duke agreed, perplexed and uncertain.  He had no idea why she was being _nice_ , and it left him off-balance and uneasy.  And he had absolutely no intention at all of going anywhere near the police station, ever- his father would _flip_ if he even thought about it.  “Thank you?”

“...You’re welcome.  Stay out of trouble.”

“Okay.”  Duke flashed a nervous smile, and turned away, heading across the bridge and towards home- he felt the itchy sensation of being _watched_ until he went around a corner.  Out of sight, he broke into a run, trying to outpace the confusion that had settled so thoroughly over his thoughts.

It didn’t work, but at least it burned off some of the restless energy he’d built up.


	3. Late May, 1993: Prom (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late May, 1993: Prom (I) - All the options Duke has, and none of them are the one he wants.
> 
> CW - Underage drinking

Duke took another drink, and leaned his head back against the support strut, searching out familiar points in the sky by rote- there was Shedir, in Cassiopeia, and Alderamin in Cephus; there were Deneb, Sadr, and Albireo in Cygnus and Vega in Lyra; there were Tarazed, Altair, and Alshen in Aquila.  He couldn’t remember which of them he’d memorized because his father had insisted, and which he’d memorized on his own, which stars were _his_ and which belonged to a man long dead.

...Screw it, they were all his.  He had every right to them, to those tiny points of light, to the names burned into his mind, to the freedom- and the solace- they could offer.  He’d _worked_ for that claim, and whether he’d been driven by fear or driven by spite didn’t matter, he’d earned them.  He’d earned them, and one day, they would guide him the way they’d guided generations before him.

One day, they might even guide him home.

He laughed at the maudlin thought, brought his flask to his lips once more, and tried not to think about Nathan slipping out hours ago, Hannah Driscoll whispering in his ear.  Tried not to think about how disgustingly happy Bill looked, with Meg radiant and regal on his arm.  They were his friends, he should be pleased that they were having the sort of night that cheesy movies were made of.

He should be inside, trying to talk Julia out of her sleek, expensive dress, making his own memorable occasion.

A flash of light, searing between Sadr and Albireo, drew his gaze; a moment later, another cut just below Deneb.  Meteors, bright and beautiful and brief.  There was a shower tonight, he remembered.  It was supposed to be quite a show.  It certainly had more appeal than the lights and music back in the gym.

The bleachers creaked, and Duke tucked his flask back into his jacket, though he could tell by the height of the shadowed figure approaching that it wasn’t one of the chaperones.  A moment longer and he turned his attention back to the sky; it was only Ian.

Ian clambered awkwardly over the last bench, up onto the low ledge that made up the back of the bleachers, and Duke reached over without looking, grabbing the collar of his jacket and steadying him as he nearly overbalanced.

“You have enough trouble with this during the day, you shouldn’t be up here in the dark,” Duke said, waiting until he could tell that Ian wasn’t going to slip before he let go.

“Julia’s looking for you,” Ian replied, shifting carefully in place; he was sitting close enough that he was pressed up against Duke’s side, and Duke considered moving, but he was comfortable and had the support strut at his back, so that _he_ wasn’t at risk of falling, and honestly, it was more trouble than it was worth.

“Yeah, well, she can keep looking,” Duke said, and it wasn’t charitable, it wasn’t particularly nice- and it certainly wasn’t called for, he _liked_ Julia, she was cute and funny and wanted out of this town as badly as he did- but he wasn’t in a particularly charitable mood.

“She doesn’t know where to look,” Ian said, and Duke let his gaze move from Albireo to Vega to Polaris and back down to Shedir- an eyeroll without the recognizable path, because he knew damn well what Ian was trying to imply.  Could hear the _not like me, I know you better, pay attention to me not her_ layered into the words.  Duke wondered if he sounded half as obvious, when he was talking to Nate.

He hoped not.

“Well, that sounds like her problem, not mine,” Duke said dismissively, “I wanted to be inside, I would be.”

“Not having fun?” Ian asked, with all the subtlety of a clumsy puppy, and Duke sighed.

“Not really my kind of party.”  And the company was decidedly lacking; Bill had no time for anyone but Meg, Jeff was making a serious effort to balance his date _and_ Ian’s date- and if Duke had gotten a decent read, he might be getting _very_ lucky at the end of the night- and Nathan had checked out almost immediately.

“I thought you made your own entertainment,” Ian teased, and yeah, Duke needed to think of a way to shut that down.  He was tired and miserable and not in the mood to protect someone else’s feelings, and Ian sounded like he was working up to something they would both end up regretting.

“Don’t feel like being entertained tonight,” Duke said, the words curt and a little bit pointed.

Silence fell; Ian didn’t seem to have a response to that, and Duke was just fine with not talking.  It was why he was out there in the first place.

Ian, though, Ian had never been any good with silence.  A flash of light cut across the sky, and Ian exhaled heavily- a sigh of relief, probably- and nudged Duke’s shoulder.

“Shooting star- make a wish,” he said, and Duke _did_ roll his eyes at that, because magic, he believed in, magic he’d _seen_ , but wishes were for suckers and Duke was long past believing in anything so simple.  He was about to _say_ as much, as well, when Ian _moved_ , and Duke’s well-trained instinct to keep him from _falling off the damn bleachers_ kicked in before he could recognize _how_ Ian was moving, so he ended up with a fistfull of Ian’s secondhand suit jacket in one hand and Ian’s lips pressed against his own.

It was awkward, by every measure a fairly terrible kiss even putting aside how very carefully Duke had been trying to avoid exactly this situation, and there was a half-a-second of time where Duke seriously, genuinely considered kissing back, just to try and _teach_ Ian a thing or two.  Where that nagging, _selfish_ impulse to just... _indulge_ that he’d been steadfastly ignoring for the better part of a year, because he was _not that cruel_ , rose up and whispered that at least he’d _know_ if he went along with things.

Then Ian pushed forward, and Duke jerked back, tightening his grip on Ian’s jacket and holding him at arm’s length.

“Ian, don’t, seriously, don’t do this,” he said, the words as careful, as _gentle_ , as he could make them- he really didn’t want to hurt him, and that was probably the bravest thing he’d ever seen Ian do, it was just also a _terrible fucking idea_.  “Just- go back inside, try and steal your date back from Jeff, we’ll call this too much spiked punch and a good laugh.”

“I don’t want to go back inside,” Ian said, voice wavering, but he kept his chin up, and Duke wondered how much he’d had to drink before he’d come outside, how long it had taken him to work up the nerve to try this tonight.  “And I didn’t want to bring Candice in the first place.”

“Then go home, if you don’t want to go back inside, but this?  This isn’t gonna happen,” Duke replied firmly.

“Why not?” Ian asked, whatever courage he’d been holding onto rapidly swinging towards petulance.

“Because I’m not interested,” Duke said, still trying to keep his tone level.  “You’re my friend, Ian, you know that, but it ain’t ever gonna be more than that.”

“It could be.”

“No, it couldn’t.”  Duke stood up, dropping lightly onto the top bench of the bleachers, and shook his head.  “I’m sorry, but it couldn’t.”  Duke turned to walk away, because he needed to remove himself from the situation, needed space and quiet and room to clear his head and another goddamn drink, and Ian scrambled down off of the back of the bleachers, landing with a heavy clatter.

“You know he’s never going to notice you,” Ian said, the words sharp and petty, and Duke went very still, a slow roll of anger moving upwards from the pit of his stomach, passing through his chest and his throat and focusing somewhere behind his eyes.  “Everything you do for him, and he doesn’t even see it.  He’ll never see it.  He’ll never see _you_.”

“You really want to walk away right now, Ian,” Duke warned, hands clenching into fists.  Because the truth of those words was an ugly wound that Duke was all too aware of, one he took great care not to disturb too often, and Ian had just _jabbed him with a goddamn stick_ , and whatever sympathy he had for Ian’s situation- and he _did_ have sympathy, he _understood_ \- was not going to keep Ian from getting his ass kicked if he didn’t back off.

“Why, so you can go sulk about something else that _isn’t going to happen_?” Ian said, and Duke turned, caught him by the knot of his tie and pushed him back against the wall they’d just been sitting on.  He had enough habitual self-control left not to slam him into it, but it was a near thing, and the sharp-edged smile he offered up was anything but _gentle_.

“Because _I told you to_ ,” he snarled.  “You think you know me, Ian, you think you _see me_?  That’s true, you might want to take a second and figure out if you _really_ want to _piss me off_.  You might want to think about what happened to the _last_ people who did.  Because if you _actually know me_ , you know I don’t pull my goddamn punches when it comes to people talking shit about things they shouldn’t.”

“You want to hit me, go ahead,” Ian said, setting his chin mulishly even as his voice shook.  “Won’t change that I’m right, and you were out here alone because you want something you can’t have.”

“...You’re right,” Duke said, so angry he was shaking with it, so angry he’d gone cold all over.  “Guess that makes two of us.  Difference is, tomorrow?  He’s still going to be happy to see me.”  Duke let go of Ian’s tie, and took a step back.  “You go ahead and dwell on that.”  Duke turned again, stomach churning, and started, once more, to walk away.

“That’s not the difference,” Ian called after him, sounding wrecked, angry and on the edge of tears.  “Difference is, one of us is a coward.”

“Knowing when not to act isn’t _cowardice_ ,” Duke said, not turning around.  His stomach had twisted at that word, at his father’s voice now echoing in the back of his mind, and to hell with the both of them.  To hell with the both of them, he wasn’t a _coward_.  Stupidity was not the same as bravery and only an idiot counted on bravado without something to back it up and Duke had many failings but _that_ wasn’t one of them.  “It’s a form of wisdom.  And it’s one you don’t have.”  He stalked away, not giving Ian an opportunity to reply- he wasn’t joking, he wouldn’t pull his punches, and Ian had about as much of a chance in that fight as a yorkie against a rottweiler, and Duke really _didn’t_ want to go there.

He was still seething when he passed by the door to the gym, and Julia called his name- he stopped, and he shouldn’t, he should just _go_ , should give himself some goddamn time, but Julia understood, sometimes, knew, sometimes, how to help.  She looked him over, frowned, and shook her head.

“Hold on a minute, let me just get my shawl back from the coat check,” she said, and Duke nodded mutely, let her gather her things and slip her arm through his and guide him to her car.

He paused, when they reached it, pulled her into a kiss.  She kissed back, and it was intense, it was skilled.  It was everything it should be, and not what he fucking wanted.  When she pulled back, she looked him over again, and shook her head.

“Come on.  Mom’s working a double shift at the hospital, we’ll have the house all to ourselves.”

He appreciated that she didn’t ask, that she didn’t want to know.  When they got in the car, Julia turned the radio on and cranked the volume, and let him sit in silence while she drove and sang along- she couldn’t carry a tune, she really couldn’t, but it never stopped her.

He liked that about her, liked how she never let someone else’s definition of success get in her way.  Of all of them, he was pretty sure Julia was going to be the one who made it, who got out of this damn town and lived her own life the way _she_ wanted.

He envied that, almost as much as he respected it.

When they’d arrived at her house, she bustled him inside with her customary efficiency- the same efficiency that made her mother such a holy terror, not that he’d ever say as much- and pushed him down on the couch, settling neatly onto his lap with her dress hitched up around her hips and her knees on either side of his legs.  She pushed his jacket off of his shoulders, leaned in as if she was going to kiss him- and pulled back, holding up his flask.

“We are going to split whatever’s left in this,” she decreed, “and you’re going to talk to me about something that has nothing to do with whatever’s on your mind.”  She unscrewed the lid, took a drink, and pulled a face.  “Why do you never have anything I actually like?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t deal in _wine coolers_ ,” Duke replied, lips twitching up in the start of a smile, and he took the flask back, took a drink and let the burn of cheap whiskey- familiar, too familiar- settle his nerves.

“Still, would it kill you to have a nice sweet liqueur once in a while?” she asked, settling more comfortably in his lap.  “Amaretto, maybe, or raspberry?”

“Picky, picky,” he teased, reaching up to tug on a lock of her neatly-styled hair.  “You could supply your own booze, you know.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “Not in this house I can’t.”

“Then you’ll just have to take what you can get,” Duke said, smirking at her, and she leaned down and kissed him.  He kissed back, fumbling to get the cap back on the flask one handed so that he didn’t spill any of the whiskey on the couch- _that_ would be a mistake- and dropped it once he had, putting his hands on her waist and kissing back.

When she stood up and pulled him in the direction of her bedroom, he didn’t argue.  This, this he could do, this, he felt no guilt over.  This was an even exchange; Julia knew exactly what she wanted, and what she was getting, and she didn’t expect more of him than he could offer.

And two hours later, when she was exhausted in the best way, curled up against his chest and half-asleep, he talked quietly about Deneb, about how it interacted with Vega and Altair to form the Summer Triangle, about how it formed the tail of Cygnus.  He talked about Albireo, how it was a binary system inside a binary system, three stars with one name, forever linked by their place in someone else’s pattern.  He talked about the Northern Cross, and he talked about the Swan.

He told her the story of Phaethon, son of Helios, who found out his father was a god, and demanded proof.  Who took on a task he couldn’t possibly manage, and nearly burned the world- who Zeus struck down, not out of anger, but out of necessity.  He told her of his brother, Cycnus, who grieved so deeply and so well for the loss of Phaethon that the gods transformed him into a swan and placed him among the stars.

She fell asleep to him whispering the names of stars into her skin, and he dressed quietly, drew the covers up over her, and crept out.

 


End file.
